


by yonder blessed moon

by chamelenyoung



Category: GOT7
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:01:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24602029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chamelenyoung/pseuds/chamelenyoung
Summary: No one is more surprised than Youngjae when Jinyoung - with his voice, impeccable manners, and devastating visuals - doesn't land the part of Romeo. Theater!Shakespeare!AU
Relationships: Choi Youngjae/Park Jinyoung
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	by yonder blessed moon

**Author's Note:**

> warnings for mentions of underage drinking, implied homophobia

Youngjae stared at the first line of the cast list. He blinked rapidly to clear his vision. He squinted again.  
  
“Congrats, bro!” Jackson threw an arm around Youngjae's shoulders with an ear-splitting grin. He, of course, with his conspicuous stage presence and peace-making tendencies, had been cast as the Prince of Verona. But landing the part he had expected did nothing to dampen his exuberance.  
  
“It's a typo.” Youngjae narrowed his eyes. He turned the printed sheet of paper, as if viewing the list from a different angle might unlock the mysteries behind the casting decisions.  
  
“Hey, don't sell yourself short - you deserve it,” chided Chaeyoung over a prop that they had already started spray-painting. “Cannot believe you went to chorus last year, honestly.”  
  
Right, that has been their last spring musical. Youngjae, admittedly, hadn't the build to play any of the male leads, so he'd been relegated to chorus. A disappointment, surely, but for the better in other ways - his grades took a steep incline, and he made friends with a lot of the freshman. They were cute, some of them.  
  
The theater department major who always topped the cast list - with his devastating visuals, smooth voice, and impeccable manners - was Jinyoung. It didn't take any stretch of the imagination to picture him as the heartthrob, the righteous activist, the hero. And Suji, in the same year, who virtually anyone with a pulse agreed was a goddess, often played counterpart to his lead.  
  
Youngjae, on the other hand, played whoever needed playing. (His haphazard resume had what Director Park liked to call “diversity”.) He guessed that the only reason they kept him around after auditions was that he, if nothing else, was a reliable actor.  
  
Jinyoung materialized at Youngjae's elbow. “Is there a reason you're reading the cast list upside-down?”  
  
“Oh, hi,” Youngjae replied, hardly sparing Jinyoung a glance. “I don't understand this at all. You're the obvious choice - Jaebeom's too sharp, Yugyeom's too soft, I'm too plain. You probably read Shakespeare for fun. What was the director thinking?”  
  
“Well, Jinyoung remarked with characteristic dryness, “I suppose after last semester he has his reasons to forsake me.” Jinyoung, who had been nicknamed Junior for the better part of two years (due to the unfortunate coincidence of sharing a name with Director Park), had asked after last year's wrap party, sweetly-as-you-please, if he could be called by his given name instead.  
  
Youngjae, who had short-circuited after seeing his own casting decision, realized he forgot to check who Jinyoung had been cast instead. “Wait then -” His eyes widened, “Who are you playing?”  
  
“Take a look.” Jinyoung slid the piece of paper back to Youngjae.

_Jinyoung Park - Mercutio_

Youngjae gasped. “Director Park's finally lost it.”  
  
Jinyoung almost seemed offended. “You don't think I can do it?”  
  
Suji chose the moment to breeze in, radiant as ever, with a handful of friends, all whispering in that mystifying language of women. She took a brief glance at the cast list before fixing her gaze on Youngjae. “Romeo,” Suji gave him a once-over, regarding him as if seeing him anew. “Look forward to working with you this semester.”  
  
Youngjae, despite his best efforts, was now probably a fascinating shade of a tomato.  
  
“Ooh -” Bambam and Yugyeom chorused, after she departed the room. Remember how Youngjae had said some of the underclassmen were cute? Yeah, well - not those two.

* * *

“Why is it that the only time I get a lead role, it's when I have to play a lustful teenager?” Youngjae fretted.

Everyone loved Suji, which is why it was okay for Youngjae to have a crush on her too - until now. With mounting dread, he realized he would be required to act intimate with possibly one of most enchanting humans to ever exist, someone he'd only thought about in vague, unattainable terms, when he probably had the social graces of one of those mountain bears that sometimes roamed the outskirts of campus.  
  
“Are you still hung up on that?” Yugyeom shook his head. “I think the better question is - what possessed the Director to do Shakespeare again?”

It had always been a play in the fall and musical in the spring, but Director Park’s creative fancies had tended towards modern hits until recently. (Director Park was more officially Professor Park, but they all called him Director, because he had once upon a time worked in Hollywood before deciding that heading the performing arts department in a well-endowed university made for a more comfortable life.) Shakespeare, truthfully, was tricky to pull off, and harder to fill seats.  
  
Jae flicked a stray sequin off the floor at the trio. “Maybe to knock some more culture in you peasants.”  
  
“Hey! Don't group me with you lot,” Bambam protested. He was a design student, with a keen eye for costuming. He usually hung around the actors, though, and had been officially roped in sometime during the last act of 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' last year. For two delirious minutes, when Tzuyu had become indisposed and the understudy missing, they had seriously considered sending out Bambam in a spare wig and nightgown as Helena. (To be fair, he had finished his job after Act 2, and he was always imitating their parts backstage.) Tzuyu, thank heavens, scrapped herself back together enough to push through the end of the play. From that day on, Tzuyu won new and grudging respect from the grumbly part of the cast, while Bambam was badgered to try acting for cross-dressing purposes. (“It would be historically accurate! There were no women on Shakespeare's stage,” Yugyeom liked to insist, usually far away from anyone who would kick him for saying that.)  
  
Before their first 'Romeo and Juliet' rehearsal, Director Park strolled in with a (presumably organic) coffee in his hand, and promptly spilled a quarter of it over a misplaced prop. That was precisely the moment when Youngjae knew that the rest of their afternoon would be a disaster.  
  
Youngjae forgot his lines, flipped the order of several others, and generally didn't know what to do with his hands.  
  
“You have this all wrong,” Director Park sighed as if it pained him, running a hand through his thinning hair. He criticized Youngjae for everything from his tone, to his delivery, to his haircut. “Don't make me regret this casting choice, Youngjae,” he warned.  
  
Youngjae, who was not used to such attention (negative or otherwise) was busy contemplating the best way to dissolve into the stage floor when a clang of metal startled him. He looked up to see Jinyoung flinch in apology as he picked up the dropped sword.  
  
“And you -” Director Park rounded on Jinyoung, evidently having remembered his existence, “Mr. Park, I expected better.” Jinyoung was likewise unaccustomed to dying in a production, and played a rather lukewarm final scene.  
  
Later on, backstage, Yugyeom tried to bolster Youngjae's courage. “You need to stop trying to be Jinyoung," he heartened. "Just play it how _you_ would play it.”  
  
“Yeah, he's not supposed to be princely –” echoed Bang Chan, their tech specialist. Youngjae really didn't know where he got the confidence to be coaching his acting.  
  
“Right, he just thinks he is. He's young and impulsive, and –”  
  
“Horny?” supplied Yugyeom helpfully.  
  
“Yeah, that –” Bambam snickered.  
  
“Great advice, you three,” Youngjae retorted, feeling hollow. “I'll reflect on it.”  
  
He instead decided to drown his sorrows by burning his face off with spicy takeout he ordered with Mark, while their third roommate Younghyun looked over his music composition homework with equal parts judgment and resigned affection.

* * *

Mark drove them all down to the seaside on the last balmy autumn day of the year.

Youngjae and Jinyoung, as usual, remained content to sink their toes into the sand while the rest of them challenged the waters.

The sea rolled and glittered and preened, and it reminded Youngjae of everything he loved from his childhood. The only other person who came close to understanding this feeling was Jinyoung, whose ocean-bred soul also knew intuitively the feeling of sun-soaked sand, rushes of seafoam, the stickiness of melting ice cream.

But even the sound of water crashing into the beach and Jinyoung's low voice humming an unknown tune couldn't soothe Youngjae entirely.  
  
“I miss Coco,” Youngjae mumbled, glum.  
  
Jinyoung only laughed and sets down his highlighters and script, yet to be colored beyond recognition. “Why, would she help you with your lines?” He fed Youngjae a chip, vinegary and over-salted.  
  
“No, she would chew my script. But she would make me feel better.” Coco was back with his brother, since pets weren't allowed in his dorms. Youngjae lay spread-eagle, on the sand, unconcerned about the state of his clothing. “This play is impossible.”  
  
“They say adversity is good for character -” Jinyoung began to murmur but paused at Youngjae's look of consternation.  
  
“Maybe it's because I can't relate.”  
  
Jinyoung's voice tinged with amusement. “What, you've never had violent passions for anyone?”  
  
Youngjae snorted. His dating history was probably the least tabloid-worthy of the entire department.  
  
He did have a crush on Suji, but his attraction wasn't _violent_ , per say. But neither was that swirly feeling when Jinyoung's voice dipped to that velvety timbre. Or when he tilted his smile at just that angle. It wasn't fair, he lamented, that some people were allowed to have faces like that. A thought crossed his mind.  
  
“You don't - mind, do you, about Suji?” He asked with hesitation. “I mean you've never really mentioned before -” It was sometimes hard to tell what Jinyoung's preferences were, when his cool politeness extended to everyone.  
  
“There's nothing between us.” Was the unequivocal answer Jinyoung gave. He added, “And anyway, even if she was my type, she reminds me too much of my sisters.”  
  
Youngjae winced. “Don't _say_ that, I have an older sister.”  
  
Jinyoung ruffled Youngjae's hair in reply and grinned. “We're actors, right? we have to put those sorts of things behind on stage.” 

Jinyoung refused to recite a few lines for Youngjae ("No - you need to play _your_ Romeo,") which Youngjae thought was a little unfair, all things considered. Youngjae put on a pout, even thought he knew Jinyoung wasn't Jaebeom, and cuteness wouldn't get him as far.

“I know you have it in you, Youngjae. You're so honest on stage - just act like you've always done.” Rather suddenly, Jinyoung sat up, a foreboding twinkle in his eye. "You know what you need? To loosen up."  
  
Youngjae only caught a fleeting glance at Jinyoung's devious smirk - the one that only appeared at the expense of others - before his world flipped on its head.  
  
“This -” Youngjae yelped, “This was not part of the plan!” Yugyeom, Bambam, Mark, and Jinyoung - the traitor - cackled, each grasping one of his limbs, heading unsteadily towards the frigid-looking waves.  
  
“I trusted you!” was the only thing Youngjae could wail before he tumbled straight in, mouth filled with seawater. He shivered so hard and complained so loudly that he almost missed the fact that Jinyoung was the first to wrap his coat around Youngjae once they'd fished him out of throws of the late autumn ocean.

* * *

Youngjae had finished costume fitting earlier than expected (Bambam took all the credit for his accurate measurements, of course), and was passing time testing the rest of the props concocted by the arts departments.  
  
Youngjae spilled half of a purple-dyed liquid down his front, spluttering, “What the hell, Bambam? Did you have to make this so vile-”  
  
“It _is_ supposed to be poison,” Yugyeom insisted, the picture of innocence. “We have to be accurate, don't we?”  
  
Youngjae grimaced. “If accuracy is what you were going for, I'll probably be in the ER tonight.” He set the offending glass bottle on a nearby trestle. “Neither of you are in my will, just so you know.”  
  
Youngjae shot another meaningful glare at the pair, who didn't look remorseful in the least. To recover from his poisoning, Youngjae wandered the prop workshop, trying to stay out of the way and standing in awe of the storm of labor it took to render a dated European setting in foam, wood, and fabric.  
  
He stumbled upon the masquerade masks in a corner of the room, and Youngjae inhaled - they were possibly the most ornate accessories he'd seen in his life.  
  
“Wow - you've outdone yourself, Bam.” Youngjae gawked, picking his own up gingerly. Satin ribbon ties streamed from a pearlescent white half-mask, painstakingly gilded with silver and tiny beads shimmering different colors.  
  
Beside it is Benvolio's, a forest green, Juliet's in a delicate blue, and Mercutio's: bloodred, sharp-nosed and sparingly adorned.  
  
“Wait until you see Juliet's party gown,” said Jisoo, overhearing Youngjae, not to be outdone.  
  
“Wait ‘till you see the _set_ ,” Chaeyeong cuts in. She beamed at Youngjae. “We have a surprise for you.” She covered Youngjae's eyes and didn't him sneak a peek until all the stray bits of prop were tucked away, the stage cleared of most students, and Bang Chan had been made to turn on all the lighting. Youngjae immediately understood why because -  
  
“Wow,” he breathed, soaking in the gorgeous arches and delicate balcony, the Roman columns entwined with roses almost real enough to prick, and the glittering galaxy that was the ceiling.  
  
“Thought we might get this part of set done a little earlier, you know, for your big balcony scene.” She winked. “Good luck, Youngjae!”

* * *

Some weeks later, when they did a full dry run, Youngjae kept thinking how well the mask would suit Jinyoung.

Jinyoung's rich voice was smooth, dangerously so. His Mercutio was wit and instability and loosely lidded mania, all threatening to spill out of control. At one moment, Jinyoung trailed a finger down the edge of Youngjae's jacket, and Youngjae had needed to remind himself to breathe. The roguish role fit Jinyoung, almost unfairly so. It fit him almost more than all the heroes he'd played before; here, he could channel all his below-surface broodiness into sleek ruthlessness. He completed his part and lurked in the wings, arms crossed, to watch the next scene, as he liked to do.

Youngjae took Suji's hand.  
  
He reminded himself to take a good at her dress, at the way it flared out at the bust and at its romantic embellishments and billowy sleeves, so he would know what to say when Jisoo grilled him later.  
  
“ _Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake_.” Suji uttered with measured modesty and charm. Suji was a wonderful actress, and played exactly the right emotions for this pivotal moment in the play - one that Youngjae wouldn't have dared dream of playing last year - But Youngjae, who had pined after Suji for so long that everyone on this side of campus probably knew about it, suddenly couldn't dredge up the proper emotion to kiss her.  
  
He exhaled, centering himself, cupped her soft cheek, brought up the feeling of tumbling headfirst into a sunlit ocean, and when he inhaled, he would be lying if it didn't smell more of the sea and grease than it did of the delicate perfume she wore.

-

Director Park wrapped up rehearsal, making last-minute adjustments to the lighting and Jaebeom's blocking for the sword fight. “Youngjae -” he turned, “Good work today. I need that level of performance from you every time.”  
  
Youngjae flushed with pleasure.  
  
Jinyoung, who had seemed thin-lipped ever since Act 3, brushed past him.  
  
“Jinyoung, where are you headed? Mark said he'd give us a ride -”  
  
He shouldered a backpack, expression unreadable. “I'm going to the library. Alone.”  
  
Youngjae was left dumbfounded. Jinyoung always needed a few minutes longer than everyone else to break out of his character and come back down to earth, but this seemed different.  
  
Mark (who was the only non-theater major, and therefore the only sane member of their group) had arrived to pick up his baffled roommate. He raised an eyebrow. “How dramatic.”  
  
Youngjae discovered Jinyoung hours later in the kitchen, microwaving an instant meal because he, apparently, had missed dinner.  
  
“Jinyoung,” Youngjae entreated, feeling tentative in a way he'd never felt with Jinyoung before. “Don't take this the wrong way, but,” - he was abruptly reminded of the fact that he'd never been on the receiving end of Jinyoung's slow-burning temper - “What is your problem?"  
  
Jinyoung's eyes flashed. “Nothing,” he answered in monotone, his mouth pressed in a way that most definitely wasn't because of nothing.  
  
“I know this isn't about the casting decision –” Youngjae began. Jinyoung wasn't the type to be resentful. He had worked his way up to his fixed lead position, after all. As far was Youngjae knew, Jinyoung had always spoiled Youngjae a little more than he did the others, treated him with a little more gentleness, perhaps because he looked and acted younger than he really was.  
  
“You - really don't know?” Jinyoung asked, expression tight.  
  
“Know what?” Youngjae replied, exasperated. Honestly, the number of people who had expected him to read minds this week was staggering.  
  
Jinyoung fixed him with a searching gaze, only to deflate. “I see.” It took him several moments to gather his next words, as he fingered the edge of a sleeve. “I might be a little. You know. Jealous, after all.”  
  
“Oh.” Youngjae sank into one of the kitchen stools when it was clear that Jinyoung wouldn't be biting his head off, and furrowed his eyebrows. “Well don't be. It's probably better that you sat this one out.” He offered Jinyoung a wan smile. “The neckline of my shirts lower every fitting - Jisoo probably thinks I won't notice - and Bam and Yugyeom almost ended me with that fake poison yesterday.”  
  
Jinyoung had the decency to look chagrined. “You're right. I'm being unfair. That Queen Mab speech has been messing with my head.” He held out a hand. “Friends?”  
  
“Always,” Youngjae clasped his hand.  
  
Jinyoung's smile was slow to return but his eye wrinkles reappeared when he did.

* * *

Youngjae overheard two cast members gossiping, making very little effort to be discreet. Typical theater majors - always trying to turn everything into a scene. One of them, he recognized, had auditioned for the Paris. He couldn't remember his name.  
  
“It's about time Director Park made that casting decision -”  
  
“Well, he does a good Mercutio, you have to give it to him -” his friend tried to placate.  
  
“Well he would. When he's like that.”

That halted Youngjae in his tracks.  
  
“Like what?” Youngjae spun on his heel before he could stop himself, a grim sort of satisfaction blooming when both men startled a bit. (Ah, the joys of having an invisible aura offstage.) He didn't miss the fact that Jinyoung was very much within earshot, albeit back turned.  
  
“Well, you know the kind of actor Mercutio usually goes to,” he drawled with a conspiratorial smile. “And Jinyoung's not much for the ladies - if you catch my drift.”  
  
Somewhere from the back of the studio Youngjae heard a muffled gasp.  
  
Yes, they all liked their fair share of theater department drama, and having such a guarded personal life as Jinyoung did only bred more rumors. It still didn't make Youngjae's blood run any cooler.  
  
“What?” the sophomore defended himself, “He's been cast with Suji how many times now, and he's never in the girls' dorms after-hours? Don't pretend we're all not thinking the same thing!”  
  
“So?” Youngjae retorted, struggling to maintain an impassive face. Jaebeom, who Jinyoung was talking to, had started following the exchange with an intensity that Youngjae wouldn't want to be subject to, but the sophomore seemed blissfully unaware.  
  
“Well it's high time he left our parts to us, eh Youngjae?”  
  
Youngjae stole another glance at Jinyoung. His back had gone rigid but Youngjae knew he wouldn't step in, not when it was about himself. The only time he'd ever seen Jinyoung get confrontational was when that senior had roughhoused Yugyeom a little harder than was friendly, last year.  
  
Jackson, sensing at least one fuse about to blow, interjected. “Hey man, Jisoo says she wanted you in the fitting room, like, yesterday. You better get over there before she takes in your waistband by two inches.”  
  
The sophomore, to his credit, cursed under his breath and dropped everything to run in the direction of the costume shop.  
  
Youngjae strode over to Jinyoung, who seemed a bit ruffled but unsurprised. “What a jerk,” Youngjae concluded.  
  
Jinyoung shrugged. “Being director's favorite has its price.” he replied, voice even, but his shoulders were still tense.  
  
“I guess. You - you're okay?”  
  
Jinyoung nodded once. “Thanks,” he mumbled and almost added something, but Director Park called them all to attention.  
  
After they were all released from rehearsal, Youngjae catches Jamie watching him with an odd expression. “What?”  
  
“I'm starting to get why you got picked as Romeo, now,” she divulged.  
  
“How...do you mean?”  
  
“You have a pretty short fuse, when someone pushes the right buttons.” She felt the need to clarify, “You get that 'I'm about to do something stupid' look.”  
  
Youngjae could only stare at her in return. “You're calling _me_ a hothead? Have you interacted with anyone else in this cast?”  
  
Jamie waved a dismissive hand and sighed. “Forget it.”  
  
Youngjae doesn't know what magic Jackson worked later, but he was satisfied to catch the sophomore stiffly proffer an offering of truce to Jinyoung later on in the dressing rooms.

* * *

Jackson, who had turned down a fancy fencing scholarship to pursue acting with these hooligans, was having a field day.  
  
Youngjae gripped the foil, sweating hard as Jackson made another swipe on him.  
  
“Your balance is off.” Jackson, barely looked winded. He volunteered to help Youngjae practice for the sword fight, and was a gracious, if over-zealous tutor. “You can't be allergic to the blade, Youngjae.”  
  
“Yeah, well, when that thing could blind me, I think I can.”  
  
Jackson only grinned, readjusted Youngjae's grip, and helped him practice enough times that he could convincingly kill Jaebeom's Tybalt out of vengeance. Jinyoung had begged off, claiming he'd already practiced his bit with Jaebeom, and that he didn't need much more practice to be stabbed from under Youngjae's arm.  
  
“That's pretty tragic,” Jackson noted. “To die defending someone else's honor. Mercutio doesn't even _like_ Juliet.”  
  
“Well, what are friends for,” Youngjae muttered absently, as they lay on the cool practice room floor, regaining their breathing.  
  
Jackson leans on one arm to reach for a fist bump. “Good work dude. By the end of next year, you'll be rivaling Jinyoung for the leads.”  
  
Youngjae snorted. “As if.”  
  
Jackson had that earnest kind of concern on his face, the kind that usually signaled a pep talk. “How do you think you got this part?”  
  
“Pure chance.” Youngjae replied without thought.  
  
“Come on, man! Jinyoung always says you'd be a better actor than him once you ramped up your confidence.”  
  
This surprised Youngjae. Jinyoung wasn't very openhanded with his compliments, or shows of endearment in general. “I don't think I'm lacking confidence. I'm just realistic about what kind of roles my visuals will get me.” Director Park was always telling them to bulk up or slim down, but Youngjae just thought, to hell with that. 

“You just wait - one day, people are going to wake up.”  
  
Youngjae laughed in spite of himself. “Wow, Jacks. You know, you really missed your calling as a life coach.” Jackson smacked him playfully in response.  
  
Jackson sits up and seemed to recall something. “Hey, Youngjae. Is Jinyoung in one of his acting moods?”  
  
Youngjae considered this. Except for that moment after that first dry-run, Jinyoung had acted pretty much himself, if not a little more spacey. “Isn't he always, this time of year?”  
  
“I don't know, it's just -” Jackson shot a glance at Youngjae, “Yesterday, we had a few drinks.”  
  
Jackson and Jinyoung were inseparable. The only time Jinyoung ever got in trouble during class was when Jackson distracted him with some kind of inside joke. They were also roommates, so Youngjae failed to see how this was out of the ordinary. “Don't you always drink together?”  
  
“No, actually. He comes to me after he watches movies and wants someone to be sentimental with. He drinks with you.”  
  
Youngjae's mind didn't know what to do with this information.  
  
“You know how he is when he's drunk.”  
  
Youngjae did know. A few layers of Jinyoung's defenses slipped, he was quicker to laugh, accent loosening, more prone to cutely latching onto someone and spilling his feelings. Jinyoung very rarely allowed himself to drink to that state, but Youngjae was good at being a vault when it did happen.  
  
“What did he say to you?” Youngjae ventured.  
  
“You know, the usual.” he said with a wink. Jackson picked up his foil again, in a ready stance. “Let's run through this again. I want Jaebeom's smirk to be properly wiped off next time you duel him.”

* * *

The beginning of tech week had generally been less of a trainwreck than Youngjae had expected. It's probably what gives Youngjae the confidence to be messing around with the prop team again after rehearsal, instead of writing his literature paper.

“And _that_ is why Shakespeare doesn't have Romeo stab himself. Men can't handle the gore.” Chaeyoung was cleaning the edge of Romeo's dagger with a rag and an air of mild disdain.  
  
Youngjae, who had been overcome with a wave of nausea after watching the red blossoming from Suji's chest, privately agreed. He took a seat on a nearby crate.  
  
“Relax, it's not real,” Suji was observing his face with concern.  
  
“Well it smells terribly enough to be real.” Youngjae looked away, trying not to feel lightheaded as Juliet's last line rang in his ears, _“O happy dagger, / This is thy sheath”_.  
  
“This is _not_ what blood smells like,” Suji replied, voice odd. Youngjae didn't dare ask how she knew.  
  
“We don't have to use it,” Bambam frowned. “Actually, Jisoo will be a nicer human being during production week if we don't – those stains will be hell to get out.”  
  
Later, when they both walk to the dining halls for dinner, Bambam cornered Youngjae. “So,” he wiggled both of his eyebrows in suggestion. “When are you making the move, Romeo? You've mooned over her long enough.”  
  
Youngjae went cold with shock. “I hardly think the feeling is mutual,” he replied weakly. It was true that Suji displayed the appropriate level of infatuation when necessary, but only on stage. Youngjae wasn't even sure that he minded. “She's really nice –” they had met over coffee, to discuss their characters, “But I don’t know if she's my type anymore.” He still thought she was lovely, but he realized that his admiration for her talent didn't amount to much more than that.  
  
“What do you mean?” Bambam exclaimed. “She's everyone's type.”  
  
“Well, so is Jinyoung,” countered Youngjae, “And you don't see everyone professing their love to him, now, do you?”  
  
“He's different.” Bambam waved off. “It's a sad part of growing up, isn't it? When your fantasies only stay fantasies? Now you’re saying Suji isn't your type when you could hardly make eye contact with her the first few rehearsals -”  
  
“She's a lady, I can't be _ogling_ her -”  
  
“At least you've stopped looking at Jinyoung offstage for cues - now that was distracting. 'Is your sonnet for Mercutio or Juliet, Mr. Choi?'” Bambam mocked in an uncanny impression of their director. “And - oh.” Bambam's eyes went round and he stopped. “Oh?”  
  
“What?” Youngjae prompted when Bambam said nothing more. “Well are you going to tell me what?” Youngjae demanded, impatient. Bambam did nothing to acknowledge his distress and Youngjae threw up his hands. “You know, you visual arts majors have a habit of not finishing your thoughts.”  
  
“Oh, we finish our thoughts.” Bambam smirked. “Just not where you can hear them.”  
  
Youngjae swatted in annoyance when Bambam tried to pinch his cheek. “Maybe someday in the future, little lovebird.”  
  
Times like these, Youngjae wondered if he should've studied computer sciences like Mark.

* * *

At the end of their next rehearsal, Jisoo all but shoved a turtle-necked dress shirt at Youngjae. “Jinyoung told me to stop taking advantage of you,” she says curtly. “I thought we finally had gotten a less prudish star, but it looks like none of you _actors_ have any taste for fashion.”  
  
With a sniff, she turned on her heel to attend to matters apparently more worthy of her attention.  
  
Youngjae stared after her in awe. “Was that an apology?”  
  
“As close to one as you'll ever get,” affirmed Sana, who had stopped beading the edge of a dress to observe the encounter, seeming equally struck.  
  
Youngjae didn't deign to understand the cryptic speech patterns of the visual arts majors, and brushed the conversation aside. He walked around set after most people had left, to get a better intuition for the space.  
  
It took him a good ten minutes before he understood the implications of Jisoo's words. Jinyoung, who had deflected Director Park's wrath, who had convinced Jisoo to dress him more respectably, would never in a million years feel entitlement towards a lead role. It dawned on him.  
  
He sprinted towards the dressing rooms, where he prayed he would find Jinyoung. He had always taken his time to dress.  
  
Jinyoung looked up in surprise when Youngjae threw open the door. “Youngjae?” He had just finished pulling on a T-shirt.  
  
“We have to talk.” Youngjae urged, out of breath, grabbing Jinyoung by the wrist.  
  
“Wait - now?” Jinyoung protested but allowed Youngjae to drag him off anyway. “Is the prop closet an essential feature of this discussion?”  
  
Youngjae had pulled Jinyoung here for propriety's sake, but if he was being honest, he didn't care if anyone overheard them.  
  
Suddenly in such close quarters, when he could feel the darkness of Jinyoung's irises, when he could hear his chest rise and fall, some of Youngjae's earlier bravado faltered.  
  
“I - well, you –” Youngjae stuttered. Jinyoung's expression was still one of utter bewilderment.  
  
So Youngjae did the only thing that made sense to him in the moment: he kissed him.  
  
Jinyoung's small gasp of pleasure made everything worth it. He pulled Youngjae flush against him, and Youngjae felt the warmth radiating from his skin.  
  
“You don't know,” Jinyoung said faintly, when they finally broke apart, “How long I've wanted to do that.”  
  
“Well if you were going to keep being a gentleman about it,” Youngjae groused, “We wouldn't be here.”  
  
Jinyoung lips upturned and he leaned his forehead against Youngjae's, expression growing wistful. “How long have you known?”  
  
How long had he know that he wanted Jinyoung, or that Jinyoung wanted him back? “Not too long ago.” He crept a hand between Jinyoung's shoulder blades. “I would've done this much earlier if I knew that I could.”  
  
“Well you definitely could have,” Jinyoung murmured, shivering lightly into the touch, “I just couldn't be sure if you wanted to.” Which was unfair for Jinyoung to think, when self-doubt was Youngjae's arena. Jinyoung lay his head in the crook of Youngjae's shoulder. “ _Arise, fair sun,_ ” he whispered into his hair.  
  
“Oh. That's lovely,” Youngjae breathed, “but if you spout any nonsense about palmers or pilgrims, I _will_ shove you away.”  
  
Jinyoung chuckled, low and throaty, and pulled Youngjae close again.  
  
For all his straitlaced mannerisms, Jinyoung did not kiss by the book. He kissed deep, then slow, then pulled back to barely brush his mouth, both hands sliding impossibly low on Youngjae, cracking an eye open to gauge his reaction. Youngjae, for his part, fisted Jinyoung's collar as if it were a lifeline, holding back a whine when Jinyoung only gave him a chaste peck.  
  
“I bet,” Jinyoung contemplated, unusually smug, “You don't kiss Juliet like this.”

Youngjae could have laughed at the sudden display of pettiness. “That's really not fair, you know. Those are stage kisses. Besides,” he went on, “You've kissed loads of girls. The closest I ever came close to kissing anyone onstage before this year was when Jackson accidentally shoved Jae too hard at me in ‘Crucible'.”  
  
Jinyoung chuckled again. “This is definitely not a stage kiss.” Even in the dark, he had an untenable pull on Youngjae. He wondered when Jinyoung started having such a magnetizing effect on him, and then he realized - always. He had just spent his years convincing himself it was the effect Jinyoung had on everyone.   
  
“How do you think the others will take it?” Jinyoung asked, after they've relocated to a more comfortable lounge chair in the club room.   
  
“As well as you can expect a roomful of high-strung arts majors to take it. At least,” mused Youngjae, “There's zero chance we'll be acting love interests.”  
  
“You don't want to?” Jinyoung asked, voice soft. He'd taken to playing with Youngjae's hands, as if amazed that he had the same ten fingers, their limbs hopelessly entangled. Youngjae had never been so aware of it until now, but Jinyoung was rather touchy. Youngjae’s mind dimly nagged him about the papers and exams and sleep he had to catch up on, but it was so easy to push these things aside when Jinyoung was pressed so comfortably against him.  
  
Youngjae thought over Jinyoung's question. “I don't know about you, but even though I like being on stage with you - I'd rather keep things straight in my head. I like it better when we can just be ourselves, you know?” Jinyoung hummed in agreement.  
  
“Anyway, Bam thinks I might end up chorus again next musical.”  
  
“Why in the world would you?” Jinyoung's indignation on his behalf was heart-warming.  
  
“He snooped on Director Park's browsing history.” Youngjae sighed. “'Kinky Boots'. You'll be Price, obviously.”  
  
“You don't know that.” He paused. “You could try for Lola.”  
  
“Lola?” Youngjae was incredulous. “Can you imagine me in a sparkly minidress?” Jinyoung stopped fiddling with their hands and flushed.  
  
“Wow.” Youngjae's jaw slacked at this minor revelation. As clean of an image Jinyoung had, it goes to show that years of theater never left you untainted. “I didn't know you had this side to you.”  
  
“I _don't_ ,” Jinyoung's voice pitching higher, the way it did when he became flustered, “I mean - you're not allowed to regret me now, you've hardly kissed me for the first time five minutes ago.”  
  
“I'd never.” And to get back at Jinyoung for his terrible Shakespeare references - “ _By yonder blessed moon I vow_ ,” Youngjae pulled Jinyoung closer and felt him laugh into another kiss.

The curtain fell - Youngjae felt the rush of the ocean, tasted the mustiness of the dust-aged room, as rest of the world around them faded to shadow.

> _With love's light wings did I o'erperch these walls,_  
>    
>  _For stony limits cannot hold love out;_  
>    
>  _And what love can do, that dares love attempt._

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. yes I know romeo and juliet is a tragedy, let us all continue to conveniently ignore that point  
> 2\. JJ!cross sword fight is my pet headcanon  
> 3\. We all remember jinyoung sauntering around in three-inch costume heels, right?


End file.
